


Shots Of Serotonin

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gay, M/M, Murder, Ryden, angsty, bandoms - Freeform, smut MAYBE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brendon is the kid of an important mafia leader, Ryan works for them as a murderer.Ry's had a hard past, Brendon is determined to discover the secrets behind Ryan's hard eyes.





	1. Part 1: Curtains Down

" So, where were we?" Ryan asked, his fingers trailing over the cold, golden-plated table. He estimated it to be a 14-carats plating, though he wasn't quite sure. He knew **The** **Boss** liked shiny things. Ryan's gaze travelled in the room before stopping on a tiny scratch on the wall, a scratch that would've been irrelevant to anyone else, but not to Ryan. In fact, it was making him really agitated. A scratch on the wall. 

It was stupid, really, thinking of everything that could've made him anxious in this room, that the tiniest scratch was the factor. Most people would've been surprised, to say the least, by the lifeless body bleeding still on the white sheets, staining them ruby red, or the fact that the man - or the thing that had once been a man - had only one, neat cut on his body, right on the wrist.

But that scratch, that particular little scratch on the wall, Ryan felt as if that small detail would throw the cops on his case. 

" Oh right, that particular scene where I say I'm sorry but I'm not really cuz the money The Boss gives me and the adrenaline this provides me makes up for the killing. " He replied, humming softly, very aware that he was talking to a corpse. 

Later on, he'd cover the scratch up with some beige paint, set the scene up. The man was thirty, no one really cared about him because he was just really greedy, anyone would've killed him. He could've just... Commited... Yeah let's just leave it there. 

Then he left, humming softly to the tune of *I Never Told You What I Did For A Living*. 

Ryan knew who Boyd was, he was the kid of his boss, and quite honestly, he was quite attractive, but Ryan didn't have time for distractions. He had tried it out with Weekes, didn't work, left it there. 

Besides, Urie was known for his constantly swinging mood, while Ross was a calm person, so calm he could literally kill someone without feeling anything. He wasn't a sociopath, though, he did have feelings, they were just... shut down. Hidden in the very core of his person. 

Ryan could feel, he had felt, and he hadn't liked it, so he had chosen to not feel. It was hard to explain but so easy to do. Ross didn't get attached, ever. His hard past definitely helped that, but he never mentionned it or reproached anything to his parents. After all, they weren't murderers, unlike himself. 

He was surprised though, when he learned that the kid was now in charge of the whole business, since his father had gone to a trip. Brendon was barely 18 by then, and very immature, his father knew that, which is exactly why he assigned Ryan to help him out.


	2. Part 1.5: Setting The Scene

Brendon was there, looking at him right in the eye, and he was somewhat intimidating. Maybe it was the fact that he had those soft eyes that just seemed to read your mind, or maybe it was the false promise of those plump lips against Ry's that just bothered the boy so much. Ryan was here to get the money, not flirt, but the younger boy seemed to be dead set on getting in Ryan's pants, or so thought Ryan, as Urie was basically only staring into his eyes, not a single word leaving his lips. 

" Well, I'm waiting. " The murderer said, his tone measured and cold. 

Brendon pursed his lips, " Right. " He said, giving Ryan a wallet. " Here you go." 

He didn't stop staring into his eyes, whatsoever, and a small smile even made it's way upon Brendon's lips. Ryan wondered what thoughts were swirling into Brendon's mind. 

To Brendon, every single action Ryan did screamed that he lacked affection. From the way he stood to the way he bit his lip, to the blank expression that seemed to hide a lot of pain. Brendon's guilty pleasure - maybe not so guilty after all - was breaking people open, mentally. Giving out the impression that he was sweet and cared about them to finally be able to understand how they worked. Some people opened up easy, they just needed to spit everything out, and others required a lot of effort. Ryan seemed like one of those people who won't open up to you until they trust you fully, and Brendon was planning to make him trust him, no matter how hard it would be. No matter how many tears he'd have to dry, or angers he'd have to deal with. 

It was Brendon's little game, and Bren loved it. In such a dull life, you need some distraction from your own person, that already has a lot of problems. 

To Ryan, somedays, life was like a big video game. But one that doesn't have a way out until you die. Like a game of Pacman. He hated it, the concept of it, everything about it. Not feeling anything had many bad points, like making everything **boring**.


	3. Part 2: Drowning On Air

Sometimes, words slip out of your mouth before you have the time to think them over. Sometimes, your fist is faster than your brain, it just needs to destroy, and in that destructive rush, you smash down everything you love, leave yourself unable to pick up the pieces, because you broke yourself trying to fix someone else, someone who didn't want to be fixed. 

Ryan knew that feeling too damn well. 

Staring at the ceiling wasn't a new thing, crying though?

Ryan didn't cry. Ever. 

Nothing was worth his tears, not even the memories of his agonizing father telling him those three soft words, along with the useless apologies that didn't close wounds, those rounded bullets that didn't perforate the skin, but they hit so hard on delicate porcelain. 

Words that dried lips, lips that kisses faded, kisses that didn't move brains, brains tired of figuring things out, things tired of hiding. 

And, when things hide for too long, they burst sanity like small hands would reach and burst bubbles. His small hands. His memories. Nothing seemed to erase them, and ultimately, Ryan wanted to remember, because he cared about his father, as much as he denied it during his whole life. Hard to deny it now that he was six feet under. 

And the words Ryan whispered for himself only, swirled up into the sky along with the smoke of the cigarette that induced them. 

*Seems that I'm someone I've never met*


	4. Part 2.5: Remember It Later

*" So now you care?" *  
*" I'm sorry." *   
*" You always were." *  
*" So...?"*  
*" You never did anything about it."*

Brendon walked in one of the many silent hallways of this mansion. As he expected, Ryan was waiting at the door of his office, a fancy door, decorated with a golden sign that read " Urie ". 

 

His hands were clean, his white shirt was as white as when he had bought it, his face was emotionless, to anyone else, that would be literally the closest to perfection someone could possibly get, but to Brendon, it was quite annoying. Ryan stayed unreadable, cold and distant, just as the first time. 

Not like Brendon expected him to open up already, however, dark circles around Ryan's eyes told him he had a hard time sleeping, and something about the way Ry's hand twitched everytime Brendon would stare for too long told him that someone was in need of a hug. 

He didn't hug him though, because he knew Ryan probably had a personnal space and didn't want anyone in it. Eventually, Brendon told himself, it would be Ryan willingly letting him in, but for that, Brendon absolutely had to wait. 

And he'd wait, all the time Ryan needed. 

It was the murderer who spoke first, clearing his throat before announcing " I did it. " 

" You haven't been sleeping. " Brendon replied, staring right into Ryan's eyes. 

" Touché, you haven't been smoking, though. " Ryan replied, a smirk, his first in a long time. He liked these kind of relatively light-hearted conversations where they both kind of guessed how the other one felt and it was just amazing. 

" Ah, yeah, you're right. " 

" I know, now, the question is... Why?" 

" Maybe the same reason that keeps you up at night?" Brendon offered.

Ryan chuckled darkly and shook his head. " Doubt so. " 

" Oh.. Really?" Brendon looked up at him, making eye contact, and maybe it was Ryan's imagination, but he thought he'd catched a glimpse of playfulness. It was quick, though, and went away as soon as it had appeared upon Brendon's dark eyes. 

Ryan's gaze travelled to Brendon's plump lips and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss the boy, right there and right at that moment. He knew though, he knew it wouldn't happen, because Brendon was his boss, not his lover. Because Ryan Ross didn't have lovers. 

Only memories. 

And as Brendon licked over his plump lips, practically eye-fucking Ryan from where he stood, but not making any moves, it became clear to Ross that Brendon was wise, and a fair player, but most likely a winner, too.


	5. Part 3: Love Playing Chess With Him

Pete glanced at the money on the table, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

" Really, A?" 

" Really. " A replied, a smirk on his lips. 

" I'm afraid it won't work. " 

" Oh you know it will. " 

" No way, A, it won't happen. We already planned the event. There's no going back now. " 

" Well, I didn't know he'd be like that. " 

" Like what?" 

" So..... " 

" Charming. " Pete filled in for A. 

" No.. That's not the word... He's.... Desperate for love, broken as fuck, practically begging for someone to protect him. " 

" He's really not, A, he's a murderer, do you not realize?" 

" I do, Pete, I do, that's exactly the problem. " 

" What's the problem? I don't see a problem. " 

" I'm the problem, Pete, it's not him. " 

" Stop being foolish, A. " 

" You know I'm right. " 

" Yeah, you are, but still, it's all planned. " 

 

***

Ryan woke up in the middle of the night, startled by a sudden and unexpected sound. His phone, chiming. What an idiot he had been to leave it on. 

He rolled his eyes and decided to pick up. 

" Hello. " 

" Hey kid. " 

It was Brendon's voice on the other side, that's for sure. 

" How you holding it man?" Brendon asked, genuine concern in his voice. 

" Why do you care?" 

" I have no clue, I just do. " 

" Stop hitting on me, boss, it's not gonna happen. " 

" I like it when you call me that. " 

Ryan rolled his eyes, an exhasperated sigh escaping his lips. 

" Anyway, can I know why you're calling at three in the morning?" 

" Because I know you're not sleeping. " 

" You really don't, for your information, I WAS sleeping. " 

" Well, you aren't anymore, or are you?" Brendon replied sassily and Ryan hung up on him, because the kid was getting on his nerves. 

The next day at the 'office' was just really weird. Brendon kept looking right into Ryan's eyes as if he could read his mind, but in a twisted way, in a good, twisted way, and as Ryan got closer, to explain to current situation to his boss, a.k.a, I really can't sleep and you calling at 3 AM isn't gonna help, Brendon grabbed his tie, pulling him closer and pressing his lips against Ryan's. 

There was no denying, it was amazing, though Ryan was startled at first and didn't exactly understand, he then melted into the kiss. It'd be a lie to say he didn't want it, because they both knew he did. Brendon's lips were just as plump as they seemed, soft and somewhat comforting. Ryan was soon the one pressing up to Brendon, but then Bren placed a hand on Ryan's chest and pushed him away lightly, gasping for air softly. 

" No." 

" Okay. " Ryan replied, " You're right. " 

And then he left, his cheeks burning and his heartbeat quick. 

Brendon, though, didn't seem to have changed. He was calm and collected. Ryan had way less experience in kissing than in killing, and Brendon was the exact opposite.


End file.
